


Nothing You Can Do

by The3rdTrumpeteer



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Blood, morris and oscar are jerks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 05:51:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16056854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The3rdTrumpeteer/pseuds/The3rdTrumpeteer
Summary: Albert messes up, and he and Elmer both know there's nothing they can do to fix it.





	1. Chapter 1

Albert regrets that night.

He regrets not taking up Elmer’s offer to head back to the lodging house a little earlier, instead opting to grab some dinner with the little extra change he has in his pocket from a good selling day.

He regrets not going to Jacobi’s, instead trying a little corner deli a mile or so away from the lodging house (he passed it one day while selling, and he’s been curious).

He regrets lingering in the shop a little too long, talking with the nice man behind the counter until he realizes the sun has set. He takes a small bag of leftover food with him for Elmer.

He regrets taking a different route back to the lodging house, taking shortcuts through a few alleys to get home just a little sooner.

He finds trouble in one of those alleys in the form of the Delancey brothers.

They want his extra change. They want his food. They want to be power-hungry jerks, as usual, and Albert does not want to engage. He tries to push past them and leave, but that doesn’t work. He tries to turn around and leave that way, planning to find another way home, but he is grabbed from behind.

Albert reacts, spinning away from his attackers in an effort to face them, but his ankle twists and he falls to the ground, dropping his bag of food. He recovers quickly, but Morris and Oscar are already on top of him, dealing blow after painful blow. Albert is no stranger to fighting, and he swings out, managing to catch Oscar in the face and Morris in the gut. The brothers groan and grunt and draw back for just a second, out of Albert’s field of vision.

Then they’re back, and Morris has a switchblade in his hand. This has escalated far too quickly, and all Albert wants to do is get away. He struggles under Oscar, who’s pinning him by the shoulders, shoving him into the rough cobblestones. Albert, who thinks he can’t have much to lose, headbutts Oscar as hard as he can, ignoring the stars that dance in his vision when he does. It works. Oscar crumples to the ground, not unconscious but nearly there, and Albert moves to get up.

Morris comes at him suddenly with the switchblade, and Albert acts completely on instinct. He dodges the knife and shoves Morris as hard as he can. Morris drops the weapon, Albert scrambles to pick it up-

-and shoves it in between Morris’ ribs.

The Delancey freezes for a split second, then drops to the ground like a sack of rocks. Oscar is lying on the ground nearby, still clutching his head. He hasn’t seen what’s happened yet.

Albert runs. He turns on his heel and flees the alley, not caring that his head is pounding and every step is more painful than the last.

He doesn’t stop running until he reaches the lodging house, slamming open the front door before almost literally running into Elmer, who’s in the front hallway. He has boots on his feet and a cap shoved over his messy hair, and he looks like he was about to leave, but he stops short when he sees Albert.

“Al?” Elmer whispers. “I was just about to go lookin’ for you. Where’d you go–wait, fuck, is that blood?” He grabs Albert’s arm, pulls him closer, starts looking for invisible injuries. “You look awful. Are you bleedin’?”

“It’s not mine,” Albert says, staring at the floor. He doesn’t think he can make himself look Elmer in the eyes right now. “It’s Morris’.”

“Morris  _Delancey?_ ”Elmer’s face pales. “Albert, what the fuck happened?”

“He and Oscar jumped me on the way back here. They wanted my money. Morris pulled a knife and…” Albert finds that his knees are shaking. “I got it from ‘im. I barely even knew what I was doin’, Elmer. I didn’t mean to.”

“You stabbed Morris Delancey.” It’s a statement, not a question, and for some reason it makes Albert angry.

“He was gonna stab me first!” His voice is too loud, but Elmer doesn’t shush him. “You don’t understand, El. I don’t know what they were thinkin’, but…I was fightin’ for my life. But it’s fine. He was alive when I left. I know he was.”

“Albert, that doesn’t mean he’s gonna be alive tomorrow,” Elmer says. He shakes his head. “You…you can’t just do somethin’ like that and expect everything to be fine the next day. This is bad.”

“I know.”

“The Delanceys…they know people. Bad people.”

Albert sighs. “I know,” he says again.

“They’re goin’ to come for you.” Elmer’s voice shakes. There are tears in his eyes. He grabs Albert’s hands in desperation.

A third time. “I know.”

And they both know that there’s nothing they can do about it.


	2. Chapter 2

Elmer is right. He’s always right.

Word of what happened spreads quickly through the lodging house without either of them meaning it to. Elmer makes Albert tell Jack, and Crutchie and Specs overhear, and that’s okay. 

Tumbler, the youngest of them all, also overhears (Albert is not exactly quiet), and that’s not so okay. The kid is already shaken by Albert’s disheveled, bruised, bloody appearance, and hearing about what happened with the Delancey brothers only panics him more. Before anyone can stop him, he’s running to Skittery for comfort.

“Al got hurt,” he says, latching onto the older newsie with strength only a scared child can possess. “And he did somethin’ bad.”

And then the secret’s out. The lodging house practically explodes with voices, each louder than the next until they form an unbearable cacophony that makes Albert want to press his hands over his ears and run away. Instead, he backs up from his friends as they surround him, bombarding him with questions, until he feels hands on each of his shoulders. Elmer is there, and so is Jack, and they lead him from the bunk-room as Specs and Crutchie struggle to calm the other newsies.

They get him into the small kitchen that’s down the stairs and across the hall, and it’s there that Albert sinks into a chair and puts his head in his hands, physically and mentally exhausted. All he wants to do is close his eyes and forget about the nightmare that has bled into actual life, as red and sticky as the blood that still coats his hands and stains his shirt.

“Albert,” Jack says, his voice much calmer than it probably should be, “this…this is real bad. If Morris is dead-”

“If Morris is dead,” Albert interrupts, “then I’ll be dead soon, too, and there’s nothin’ I can really do about that, is there?”

He doesn’t feel afraid of the idea of death, not really, only a vague sense of anger that he can’t do anything to protect himself or his friends from the inevitable storm.

“We could stop ‘em, Jack.” But Elmer only sounds like he’s trying to convince himself, and all three of them know that it’s not working. 

“You can’t put anyone in danger for me!” The words explode from Albert’s mouth. “This is fucked up.”

It really is. Being a newsie is supposed to be…simple. Full of papes and nickels, not death and fear. They’re all just kids, but being forced to grow up in a world that doesn’t care does things to the mind, erases hope and happiness and the innocence of childhood and leaves only an unstable mantra in its place. And that nagging voice inside drives kids to pull knives on other kids in alleys, and it rots the heart and soul from the inside out until there is nothing left but anger and hate.

Albert can’t bear to see his friends pay the price for something he did in a moment of pure terror. He knows Jack realizes this, and Elmer realizes it, too, though he makes it very clear he doesn’t approve.

“We’re not just gonna let ‘em kill you, Albert!” He says, and the pain is clear in his shaky voice and his shiny eyes. “I’ll do everything I can to protect ya, and I know everyone else feels the same.”

Jack nods. “It’s not your fault all this shit happened.”

“Yeah,” Elmer agrees.

Albert doesn’t believe them.

* * *

 

They make him stay home in the morning, with promises that his rent is covered and there’s nothing to worry about. They want to keep him safe, and Albert knows this. 

But he also knows he doesn’t deserve it.

No one mentions the previous night, but Albert knows from his friends’ concerned looks and barely concealed fear that they know exactly what’s going to happen to him.

Tumbler avoids him altogether, sticking to Skittery like glue. Albert can’t blame him.

The lodging house is too quiet when everyone is gone, and the lack of noise gives Albert too much time to think, too much time to decide.

He leaves before lunch, walking through the city with no particular destination in mind, crossing the street and weaving through crowds whenever he sees another newsie.

Somehow, he finds himself in the very alley where it happened. There is still blood on the ground, more than he remembers. Albert shakes his head, trying to clear the memories, when he hears footsteps behind him. But he has no time to even turn around before they are upon him.

Albert nevers sees their faces, only hears their harsh voices and heavy breathing as they lash out at him, pummeling his front and sides and back.

He can’t escape. He feels his ribs crack and his arm break and knee bend in an impossible direction. His eyes are already swelling, and his teeth feel loose in their sockets. 

And then there is a sharp pain in his side, not caused by fists or boots. Albert’s vision is blurring, but he can make out the glint of silver as the knife is ripped from his body. 

There is so much pain. It begins to drown out the world around him, but Albert can just hear a voice, already fading as he loses consciousness.

“You killed ‘im,” the voice says, brittle with grief and loathing, “so it’s about time I fuckin’ killed you.”

Albert can’t bring himself to care that those words, full of rage and condemnation and downright damnation, are the last he’ll ever hear, because he has already slipped away.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr: poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow


End file.
